Spencer, Lassiter, and a Common Interest
by angel-dawes
Summary: Shawn and Lassiter don't like the new guy Jules is dating, for different reasons. So they reluctantly team up to do something about it. Mostly Lassie-centric.


**Spencer, Lassiter, and a Common Interest**

Carlton Lassiter had always prided himself on his ability to read people. So pseudo-psychic Shawn Spencer showing up and proving him wrong on a near-weekly basis was grating in ways that not even his ex-wife's litigator sister-in-law could top. It shook him to his very previously-unshakeable core, and for a few months he went to bed dreaming of slamming Spencer's face into the interrogation room table over and over and over…

At first it was just the Lucinda thing. Of course he wasn't over his wife yet, but he _did_ care about Lucinda and she was a damn fine partner. But then O'Hara had shown up and he couldn't really be pissed at Spencer for that because she was _O'Hara_, and even though sometimes she infuriated him with her need to be competitive about everything (she was the only person he knew who was as competitive as him, and it was refreshing and incredibly irritating at the same time, especially since her competitiveness was directly related to how comfortable she felt around him and it was increasing steadily with every day that passed) she was a damn fine partner too.

And then it evolved, and then Lassiter's hatred was more directly related to the fact that his only _real _secure talent – his ability to read people – was constantly being called into question. Oh, sure, he was good at interrogating. He knew that. And he was good at running and chasing and being tough in ways that Spencer and his high-pitched scream could never hope to compete with. But Lassiter had always considered the ability to read people the most important part of being a cop – hell, of being a human being – and Spencer's hyper-observant reasoning skills made Lassiter look like a naïve teenage girl insisting that every boy within a ten mile radius was her one true love.

"I hate him," he said aloud. McNab followed his line of sight and smiled apologetically. Spencer was in Vick's office in a "super important secret meeting", as he called it (right before offering a sarcastically sympathetic "oh, were you not invited?" in that infuriatingly not-quite-offensive way he had so you couldn't even _really _hate him). Lassiter knew instantly that McNab was the wrong person to complain to about it, because McNab was the worst Spencer sympathizer there was, other than O'Hara. "Never mind. Go back to doing whatever it is you do around here."

"Well, I should probably go out on patrol now," McNab said apologetically. "I was supposed to leave ten minutes ago, but…"

But he'd had to sit and listen to Lassiter whine about Spencer. Perfect. More fodder for the "Lassiter's a dick" conversations at the coffee pot that he tried to pretend he didn't know about.

"Right. Fine. Go."

McNab beat a hasty retreat and Lassiter leaned back in his chair and tried to mentally burn a hole in the back of Spencer's head (a mental foray into the ridiculous that he hadn't tried since the day he finally accepted that the Force was not real and would not make his mother any less insufferable).

And, of course, the mental laser backfired in a big way, and as soon as Vick's office doors opened and Spencer came striding out with Guster in tow, they headed immediately for Lassiter's desk. He frantically searched his brain for some excuse to leave (was there a perp who needed finding? Paperwork that needed filing? A coffee filter that needed changing? _Anything_?) but could think of nothing. He could only stare with wide and panicked eyes as Spencer approached. _Dammit_.

"Gus, why don't you go look into that thing the Chief wanted us to look into. You know, the thing we're not supposed to tell Lassie…oh, Lassieface! Didn't see you here at your desk."

"Spencer," Lassiter said tersely.

"Shawn," Guster said warningly at the same time (being the only one in the partnership with an iota of sense), but didn't stick around any longer than that because apparently their "super important secret case" was _actually_ _important_. And since Guster was physically capable of _taking things seriously_, he was going to _actually_ do the work. Novel idea, really.

Spencer watched Guster leave, and Lassiter knew that the pseudo-psychic had something he wanted to discuss. Hopefully some sort of favor. Lassiter looked forward to saying no.

Spencer made sure that no one was close enough to hear, then turned and said, "Lassie, I…"

"Have something you want to discuss? Hey, look at that! Maybe you're not the only fake psychic around here."

"Cute. By the way, next time don't order the cobb salad. They put mint on top at _Claws_. Really adorable, although of course your itchy throat would probably rather forego the fancy flavor."

"What? I – Spencer…you."

Lassiter stared helplessly at him and huffed. It was just _impossible_ to compete. Truly impossible.

"Look, while you're stunned into silence let me just…get on with this. It _pains_ me to ask you for help in this area, since your love life is about as exciting as the opening of _2001: A Space Odyssey_, and probably just as mind-melting in its weirdness, but I find myself with no other options."

"The more you talk, the more inclined I am to staple your face," Lassiter warned. Although despite himself, he was intrigued. Which really could have been his motto regarding all things Spencer.

"Right."

Spencer looked around again to make sure they were as secluded as the open-area desk seating allowed, then hopped over to sit on the corner of Lassiter's desk.

"Spencer…"

"This is an emergency, Lassie! Focus. Has Jules mentioned that new guy she's been seeing?"

"What? This is about Detective O'Hara's _love life_? Spencer…!"

"This is about her _lack_-of-love life, Lassie! The guy's a jerk. He's childish, manipulative, seedy, and he smells like the underside of a moldy cabbage. I divined this all psychically, of course, and absolutely did _not _follow them when they had dinner at _La Mer_ last night."

"Childish, manipulative, seedy…well there's your problem right there! She's dating _you_."

"Aw, a joke. How adorable. Your wit grows sharper the more time we spend together, Lassie. Seriously, though. What's up with this guy? What could she _possibly_ see in him?"

The truth was, Lassiter had _no idea_. And he was sort of glad that Spencer had brought it up. It wasn't like there was anyone else to talk to about it. But honestly, he was just as confused as Spencer was. Probably more, because he'd actually heard _far too much_ about the guy, given O'Hara's tendency to forego a verbal filter and just tell him absolutely everything he never needed to know about her personal life. Keeping it in bounds of proper conduct, of course. Usually. Sometimes he had to loudly and forcefully remind her what professional conduct _meant_ if she got too _into _the discussion.

"All right, Spencer. Listen up. I'm only engaging in this conversation because I'm concerned as Detective O'Hara's partner that this man may be a con artist. And if you tell anyone, _especially O'Hara_, that I agreed to even _talk_ to you about this, I will make sure the Chief doesn't call you in for at least a month."

"How? By…actually doing your work?"

Lassiter waited for Spencer to stop grinning, molding his own expression into his trademarked impassive stare. The only way this ridiculous partnership was going to work was if Spencer began to respect his lack of tolerance for tomfoolery. Once Spencer reluctantly stopped smiling, Lassiter continued.

"If you're finished behaving like a prepubescent boy, I believe we have some sabotage to plan," he said dryly, and Spencer had the gall to actually try for a _fist-bump_.

* * *

Lassiter regretted agreeing to help roughly a half hour later when O'Hara walked up with a giant smile on her face, looking proud of him for behaving civilly towards Spencer for more than five minutes. He and Spencer were huddled together around his computer monitor, scrolling through the background check they'd ordered, and probably looking the spitting image of a pair of gossipy schoolchildren. Which of course made O'Hara happy, because she loved the idea of everyone in the world getting along.

Oh, how angry and disillusioned she would be if she ever found out the truth. That almost made Lassiter want to stop looking into this Jeremy Davidson fellow. If not for the fact that it was about his partner's well-being, he possibly _would_ have stopped. Possibly.

"Look at you two," she said with all the momma-bear oomph in the world. "Working together to solve a case. _This_ is what hiring Shawn is supposed to be all about. All this cooperation, team spirit, working together at a common goal. I'm _really_ impressed."

"Uh, yeah. We're just looking into some case about a stolen, you know, uh, necklace. Yeah. Private gig, that's why it hasn't come through here yet. I psychically divined that I needed Lassie's help, so…"

Lassiter sighed and said, "He's trying, as always, to make it sound more dramatic than it is. Just a simple background check."

"Right. A simple background check for the suspected diamond-thief."

Lassiter just shook his head to indicate that Spencer was full of crap. O'Hara smiled and nodded.

"Well, you two have fun. Coffee? I'm going to Starbucks. Henrickson pulled a double shift and drank everything we had. I'm pretty sure he even ate the grounds."

"Sure, thanks," Lassiter murmured, dragging his eyes back to the computer screen.

"A pineapple smoothie, if you don't mind," Spencer replied. O'Hara headed out of the office and Spencer slapped him on the back of the shoulder irritably. "Dude, what the hell was that?"

"First of all, if you slap me again I will break all of your fingers at the top knuckle. Second of all, I don't make it a habit of _lying _to my partner. Occasionally, sure, if it's for her benefit or I'm ordered to by the chief, but generally I find it insulting to assume that a woman of O'Hara's intelligence wouldn't believe something to be amiss. How she hasn't seen through your fraud yet is difficult to answer, but that doesn't mean she's any less brilliant. Lying to her demeans that brilliance. I refuse to be a part of that."

"Dude, Lassie, did you just get all _protective_ on me?"

"She's my partner, and…" he felt weird saying the next word, and it required a bit more than the usual effort to squeeze out "…and my _friend_. It's my duty to protect her."

"I'm speechless. Actually speechless," Spencer said. Lassiter smirked to himself, because rendering Spencer speechless was almost as daunting a task as rendering _O'Hara_ speechless.

And then they finally read something that sparked their interest, and they momentarily forgot about their mutual disdain as they looked at one another with elation.

* * *

Of course, it couldn't last. A few hours later they were planted outside the restaurant where O'Hara was having a meal with her date, and Lassiter was seriously considering throwing Spencer off the pier and into the ocean. They had realized that staking the place out in Lassiter's car was as fruitless as it was in Guster's car, and Spencer's suggestion of using his motorcycle had immediately been dismissed with Lassiter's favorite Spencer Glare (he'd explained the dynamics of the Spencer Glare, but Spencer had not been suitably impressed. It was unfortunate). They had only been standing outside behind a truly hideous potted plant for ten minutes, and already they'd had enough of both the date _and _one another.

"Look at him. He looks ridiculous," Spencer sighed.

"Don't you own that shirt?" Lassiter asked absently.

"Well yeah, but it looks better on me. And _wow_, Lassie! I'm so touched that you know what I have in my closet. Are you the one who's been organizing all my overshirts according to color and thickness of stripes? Be honest."

"That would be your wife, Guster," Lassiter responded dutifully. "Now shut up. I can't hear what they're saying."

"Well Jules is saying, _Oh, Jeremy, you're so boring. But your shirt…it looks familiar. Yet for some reason I'm picturing it looking…nicer. Far more attractive. How strange._"

"Your voice for Detective O'Hara is woefully inaccurate. She is not a ten year old girl."

"You're right, I'm sorry. That was my sad Lassie voice."

"Spencer…"

"Oh, he's getting up!" Spencer said happily. "Let me go talk to him in the bathroom. Please? I'll blackmail him."

"I can't let you blackmail a man because you're jealous of him."

"Jealous of…? I resent that. But, okay, I won't _blackmail_ him. Maybe I'll just rough him up a little. Quick, show me how to punch. Just an uppercut. I can improvise the rest."

"As hilarious as this conversation is, he's not going to be in there for an hour. Just tell him to leave O'Hara alone, tell him what we know. And don't let her see you."

Spencer nodded, tried for another fist bump but left satisfied with a half-hearted high-five, and did his best (read: most embarrassing) incognito entrance into the restaurant. Lassiter waited until Spencer was in the bathroom before he sidled in and took Jeremy's seat across from O'Hara.

She looked at him with narrowed eyes, not even trying to guess. He liked that. She just waited for him to explain because she knew he would.

So he prefaced with the very practical and informative, "You're going to be mad."

"Did you background check my date?"

"I…" he stopped, surprised. He'd been expecting the chance to explain. "Well, yes. At Spencer's insistence."

"Look, Carlton, it's sweet that you two are concerned about me, but…"

"He's a con man. My instinct was right, let me just get that out there, because Spencer will try to tell you he said it first. This guy gets into peoples' lives, scams them into falling for his little act, and charms them out of everything they own."

"Congratulations on knowing the definition of a con artist," O'Hara deadpanned, sounding eerily like himself.

"He's done it before. Never convicted, but…" He started to pull out the sheets of paper he'd printed for her, but she held up a hand.

"I believe you, Carlton. And the worst part? I _totally _suspected it. I thought, _this guy is way too good_. He knew too much about me. He kept trying to say he was just super observant. Basically Shawn without the psychic abilities."

"So…he's Spencer?"

She gave him an unamused (but slightly amused) glare and continued with, "I pretended not to notice it because I really wanted him to be _genuine_. I thought maybe I was just being paranoid but, hey, apparently not. I'm just so tired of being _lied _to by everyone."

"I don't lie to you," Lassiter pointed out, because his tally against Spencer was looking pretty good. If he was lucky, she'd get pissed at Spencer _instead _of him for the whole background check thing.

"Yeah, well, that's true. How'd you figure it out, anyway?"

"This may come as a surprise, but there was a time in my life when I was actually fairly well regarded as a detective."

O'Hara laughed and said, "Oh, really?"

"There's evidence to back me up and everything. You'll have to go back pretty far, but it's there."

"You're still a great detective, Carlton," Juliet sighs, stirring her drink with her straw and glancing at the bathroom door. "So, is it safe to assume Jeremy won't be coming back?"

"If Spencer can handle making a basic threat? He'll be halfway home by now. Not that it'll go him any good. I got McNab over there waiting to pick him up."

"You gave up the opportunity to make a grown man wet himself? And gave it to _Shawn_? Carlton, is this personal growth or do you need a ride to the hospital?"

"Look, Spencer's a good kid, and if you ever tell him I said that I will never talk to you again, but he has a flair for the dramatics."

"I've noticed."

"If I let him handle this part, the _telling you_ part, he'd have botched the whole thing. Used it as an opportunity to hit on you, or make it seem like I was just ringside for the Spencer show, as always. And I'll have you know that I was instrumental in this discovery. I got a read on the guy, it was right, and I didn't need to act like it was some psychic power. I'm a little sick of never getting any of the credit when I have to put up with his shenanigans."

"Well, thank you Carlton. I know that was hard for you to admit. And I appreciate you telling me about Jeremy. But next time, could you maybe skip the whole espionage thing and just _tell _me about it? Preferably when I'm not on a _date _with the guy? Now I have to pick up the check."

"What is it, five dollars? Stop complaining, O'Hara!"

But he surreptitiously dropped a ten on the table when he got up to leave anyway. And reluctantly offered O'Hara a hug.

And maybe later he indulged Spencer's apparently unquenchable thirst for a fist-bump, but since there were no cameras around and no witnesses, that might as well have never happened.


End file.
